Some of it anyway. I’ve spent the better part of the last few days dealing with the icky part of the fire; the loss (ouch!). I’m going through pages and
pages of pictures that were taken of the unidentifiable items, trying to jog my memory and just getting over whelmed by the idea of how much stuff a person can acquire in a lifetime. It amazes me at just how much stuff (and how quickly) we can collect. Why do we need it? Pancake flippers, wine foil cutters, wine openers (well… definitely we need that), but an automatic one? (maybe…) My point being, we collect all this stuff, we then need a place to place it, to organize it. So, we need shoe trees for our shoes, we need baskets for our socks, we need baskets for our handbags… (I mean I have about 20!). It’s a bit crazy…
So, I moved to the recovered items and started unpacking ( a bit less daunting), and came across the first box. I open it and, laying in some paper on top, was the chain of a lamp I lost. A little history about this lamp: my uncle (my favorite uncle) had hand carved this lamp. It was a hanging lamp, that was made with a chain on the top. The whole top, including the links, was hand carved out of one piece of wood. I had relayed this to the helping me with my loss and they had taken just that part (it was the only part that had survived, remarkably enough) and polished it up, wrapped and boxed it. I looked at it, with tears welling up in my eyes, and thought about all the miracles of this life. Here I was getting so upset with myself and my “stuff”. I was scolding myself for not being better organized and for being too much of a “horter” when God showed me what was important. This, this hand carved work of art by one of the favorite people of my youth; Uncle Hap. And I was immediately pushed back in line with my priorities.
The traumas of Mother Nature are so random and without prejudice; yet I can’t help to think there is a reason somehow. Along with the links of my dear uncle’s lamp is a painting by my vocal coach of my youth. Along with her many talents (music being one of them), she was a fabulous painter. She had given me a painting that was painted on a block of wood. It had a “knocker” style hangar on the top. What was amazing about this is that this little block of wood that hosted this wonderful painting, was in the heat of the fire. You only need to look at it to see as the metal hangar was melted into a nub. As I was talking with my brother and discussing my findings, I looked upon this in amazement. We both laughed hysterically! This was definitely telling me something, but what?
There was definitely a point in my day yesterday where I was getting way too caught up in the self-scolding, “why can’t I be better organized” thing; and it took a couple of random (completely random) saviors from my past to remind me of how special I actually am. I do believe they were trying to tell me something. My uncle loved me for my uniqueness, my spunk, my “squirliness” (I was quite a goof as a child and he spoiled me rotten). I believe those link were there to remind me to get back to that inner child and look at this world once again through the eyes of that small girl. Reminding me of what he saw in me. Just as I’m sure I drove my mother nuts (and her sister, my uncle’s wife); it was those same qualities that he adored and was sure to let me know that.
My vocal coach brought me strength in so many ways; mostly, she taught me the mysteries of my voice and the instrument that I carry. There is a certain uniqueness with instrument and I should never take it for granted and should always nurture it. Just as we all have special qualities, mine is the ability to perform, and the ability to write; there is no need to compare myself, but I should forever stay humble. The mere fact that this survived as it did is very telling as I believe it is telling me to stretch my voice and to never give up. Continue my path and forge ahead, bold and proud.
This morning I embarked on my first exercise class in quite some time (since before leaving my ex-husband) and I truly enjoyed myself. I enjoyed the movement, the companionship of potential friends as we met for coffee afterwards. Most of all, I enjoyed the direction of my new life. To think that I was in a panic over turning 50. All my friends were right, this is the beginning of a whole new life. What are your random signs telling you? Take a moment, sit back and listen for they just might be giving you the advice that will change your life.